s p a e s a t o
by cats2find
Summary: Lovino Vargas Carreido was dead. My brother was dead. Human Au. No pairing.


**Title: **spaesato

**Summary: **Lovino Vargas Carreido was dead. My brother was dead. Human AU. No pairing.

**Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me. **

_**A/N: Uhurhurhur. Whut am I doing. I should be writing for Everything, but then again, I don'e like how it's going so I'll probably just redo the whole thing. Lol. Okay. **_

_**Omg. I need to like write about other characters or something too because like lol whut. It's all hetalia & Lovino. **_

_**This was an idea after I read a fanfic by someone, and really, I can't exactly remember much, but yeah. Okay. so... This is a simple oneshot and it's an experiment to see if I can write at least SOMETHING decent. So yeah. It will probably be disappointing lawl. **_

_**Okay then. **_

_**Enjoy. (if you can.) **_

* * *

spaesato

* * *

.

Lovino Vargas Carreido was dead.

My brother was dead.

He was hit by a car. A driver who was stupid enough to drive while being drunk.

But drunks are always like that.

They're selfish and think they only take their pain away.

They don't care to notice that the pain they release has to go somewhere. And it always enters the lives of innocent people.

People like me. People like us – my family.

He didn't deserve to die.

Really, it should have been me.

It should have been me.

Why am I alive?

When my brother died instead of me?

When my brother died in place of me?

I hadn't been watching where I was going. I had crossed the street because of a stupid cat.

And the car had been coming.

But I really am stupid, just like how everyone believes me to be.

Because I just kept walking.

And my brother had seen the insane man coming closer and closer in his dark blue junk of a car.

All I really remember is that I was pushed.

Or maybe I was kicked.

I really don't know.

But the next thing I knew, there was a horrible, terrible, not-nice-to-hear-at-all crunch.

And my brother was on the street.

Lying on his back.

His arms and legs bended in ways they weren't supposed to be.

Red red red covering his body like a blanket.

But it didn't look warm.

And I don't know why I didn't do it.

But I didn't scream.

Or yell.

Or even run up to the lifeless body holding up the cars.

I stood and watched.

No tears.

No pain.

No anything.

I stood and watched as a pedestrian dialed the emergency number.

I numbly entered the ambulance as it drove away, wailing in place of me, letting everyone know the tragedy.

I don't know why I didn't do anything.

Maybe because I hoped he would live.

Maybe because I knew he was too stubborn to die from a hit like that.

…

But who was I kidding.

He was dead before his body had hit the ground.

* * *

Time passed normally, excluding the funeral of Lovino Vargas Carreido.

I was surprised, to say the least.

Many people had come, all wearing black black black, like crows in the sky.

They all had pain and sorrow etched onto their faces.

But their attire had not been the one to surprise me.

It wasn't what they were wearing.

It was their existence in itself.

Because there was no way so many people would come.

Not for my brother at least.

It's horrible of me to think like this.

Because he's my brother.

But then again, I'm already horrible.

He was dead because of me anyway.

It was painful to see so many people mourning.

But again, I don't know why, but nothing spilled out of my eyes.

My heart clenched and unclenched.

Almost as though it was relaxing to let the tears come forth, but closing the door last minute to keep everything in.

It was plain mockery to myself.

Because how could a brother not cry for a brother.

Because really, we were almost one.

But then again, there's the keyword:

almost.

I stood apart from the rest of the people; my father, my friends, my relatives.

It was odd to see so many of _my _friends here, instead of my brother's.

But then again, he didn't have many, so my friends were technically his in a way.

But not really.

I stood and watched, sometimes allowing my eyes to flicker up, seeing the white clouds slowly move with the air flowing in the bright blue sky.

How ironic.

Shouldn't it be raining?

Because my brother was dead.

And even though he was mean and rude, he still had a loving side.

An I-will-die-for-my-brother side.

He was worth crying for.

But the sky merely lived on unlike my older brother.

It was millions of feet above while my brother was six feet under.

Maybe I was the sky to my brother now.

I was above, while my brother was under.

.

.

.

Not a single droplet of a tear escaped me.

* * *

Ludwig approached me as the funeral was coming to a close.

A lot of the people had left and it had been quite a surprise to see them stay for so long.

No one ever stayed by my fratello's side for long.

Because they never tried to know him.

How funny that they thought they knew him now.

Because they don't.

And it was too late.

How funny, because no one was laughing now.

.

Ludwig stood by my side watching with me as the flock of black had turned to dots.

Less and less people stayed.

I turned my gaze slowly to look up at Ludwig.

I must have grown because he seemed a bit shorter to me now.

He turned his head slightly to look at me, his mouth opened, ready to let out the words trapped inside.

But there was hesitance.

He never hesitated around me, but then again, my brother had died.

That was a good enough reason.

"... Are you alright?"

I stared at him blankly.

I obviously was not alright.

My brother was dead because of me.

Why would he ask that.

His eyes seemed to be anxious, a hint of worry and … _fear?_ mixed in as well.

And then I shook my head.

Because I didn't want to lie to him that I was okay.

I usually lied to questions like that, always smiling, but that was always for trivial things.

Like not getting my pasta or falling down the stairs.

My brother was not pasta and he most definitely did not fall down a mere 2 or 3 steps.

But I could see the worry in Ludwig's eyes.

And it comforted me just the slightest bit because he cared.

Because he had a brother too; Gilbert.

And although the albino was _unique _to say the least, I knew Ludwig loved him.

And losing him would be horrible.

I blinked once.

Twice.

Three times, and let a small but visible smile to come onto my lips.

For some reason, that seemed to surprise him.

His eyes widened the smallest fraction, but it was noticeable.

And I let my words tumble out, weak, but loud enough to hear.

"I'm not really okay... But thanks for the concern, Ludwig."

As the words sunk into him, his eyes got wider and his lips parted the slightest bit.

Even my dad who had been passing by stood frozen as he heard my words.

What was so surprising?

I honestly didn't know.

And I didn't get to find out because Gilbert was calling for Ludwig, which led to the departure of my closest friend.

I stood there silently, following the German with my eyes as my father continued on his way to who-knows-where before it was my turn to depart the lonesome cemetery.

* * *

The house was silent when I arrived home, my father along side me.

My mother had passed away when I was three; my brother was six.

She had gotten an illness and had departed before either one of her children.

It was almost like this saying I had heard once, though I don't remember from where...

"Parents want to die before their children."

Too bad my father didn't get to have his wish come true.

The house felt empty.

It was the silent type of empty.

It was the lonely type of empty.

It was the someone-should-be-here-but-isn't type of empty.

And it hurt.

It hurt hurt hurt so much.

.

.

.

I don't like being hurt.

.

My room was silent as I entered.

It suddenly felt so much larger than before, even with all the clusters of clothes and papers on the floor and on our desks.

We never got to clean out his belongings.

But I think I like it better this way.

Because then I don't feel so alone.

Two beds, one person.

It really is so much more lonely without my brother.

Without Lovino.

Does he feel the same way in heaven?

…

Who am I kidding?

He's there all because of me.

And he has Mom with him too.

…

I hate myself so much for wanting to die in place of my brother.

This time, not because I deserve it.

But to run away from the pain.

Because that's really all I am good at.

Running

running

running away.

The mirror across the room stands solemnly.

So I walk to it.

The sight I see freezes my every movement.

It's not because of the defeated expression looking back at me.

It's not the lonely, pained, why-am-I-alive expression that freezes my mind and body.

It's not what I look like.

It's who I am.

Because the person looking back at me is my brother.

My beautiful, never understood brother.

My dead brother.

But just as soon as I see my brother, he's gone, replaced by me.

Useless, never-good-at-anything-but-running-away Feliciano.

Alive Feliciano.

And the pain erupts from my chest again.

So I walk out of my room.

_Our _room.

Because although this is -was?- our home, my memories of him are most vivid in our room.

So I enter the kitchen and sit down at the table, watching my dad cook dinner.

Even the bright happy glow around my father has died down.

It's almost as though it's not there.

It took five years for Dad to get over Mom's death.

Five years.

How long would it take to get over Lovino?

Definitely more than five.

Because Dad loved him with all his heart.

Sometimes, I think Dad loved him more than Mom.

Because it's true, isn't it?

Parents love their children more than anything in the world, because no one can take them away.

Because children are forever the possessions of the parents.

And because children are always half of their parents.

Half and half.

But still them.

.

There is no humming from my father.

He always sings along to the radio while he cooks.

But the device is sitting silently alone on the counter.

Just like me.

…

Just like me.

I am nothing but a silent radio.

Nothing, but a silent, useless radio.

Who couldn't save his brother.

But maybe my father hurts more than me.

Because he couldn't save Lovino either.

Because Antonio Fernandez Carreido, the best doctor in town, couldn't save a life.

His son's life.

Which was almost half of his life.

Because my brother and I are half Antonio, half our mother.

So maybe my father hurts more because half of him died.

But now that I think about it,

I probably hurt more.

Because a whole of me died too.

Because my brother and I are the same.

Half Antonio, half our mother.

There is no third half to keep me alive.

Because a half plus a half plus a half can never equal one.

.

The frying pan sizzles even as the stove is turned off.

I hear the cabinet doors opening; closing.

The food sliding into the plates.

The clinking of china as they meet the face of the table.

My father sits across from me, trying so so hard to wear a smile.

But it doesn't work.

Because I know what he wants to do is cry.

Cry cry cry.

Because Lovino is worth it.

He is so so so worth it.

Lovino is worth crying for.

I look down at the plate of food in front of me and my heart clenches even more.

Because tonight, we're having food with lots and lots of tomatoes.

Just the way my brother liked his food.

And it makes me angry for some reason.

Because how could my father cook a meal which should be for Lovino?

A meal meant for Lovino?

Why this meal when the person who loved it is dead.

Dead

dead

dead.

And then my anger dissipates and becomes sadness.

Unbearably painful sadness.

Because now, it's not just my father and I who are hurting.

The food is too.

Because never again will there be someone who loves it like Lovino had.

It had lost Lovino too.

And the last straw broke.

My heart lost strength and unclenched.

And the tears broke lose.

My body shook without following any type of rhythm.

The tears I had kept in for so long spilled out uncontrollably.

The tears I had subconsciously kept in numbly spilled out.

I covered my eyes with my hands, attempting to keep in the tears.

But it was useless.

Because my tears realized it too.

That Lovino was worth spilling for.

And my body trembled and shook, the food long forgotten.

No sobbing, no wailing.

Just tears and shaking.

Tears and shaking.

Nothing more.

But it was enough.

Because more than anything,

Lovino was worth spilling tears for.

I felt strong arms wrap around me.

My father.

I could feel him pull me closer to his chest, rocking me back and forth as I covered my eyes.

And he hummed quietly, soothingly, like he was with a lost child.

Because I _was_ lost.

And he whispered just as quietly and soothingly, but loud enough to hear,

"It's alright. It's alright. Everything will be alright my love. Everything will be alright, Lovino."

Because I was Lovino Vargas Carreido.

.

.

.

And half a mile away, in a certain cemetery, a gravestone read Feliciano Vargas Carreido.

Just as it always had.

* * *

_**A/N: WAO! It doesn't seem like it but I used 7 pages on open office! But I guess it's only because of all the spacing and stuff. Lol.**_

_**Omg. Sorry there's absolutely no plot and my failed attempt at a plot twist.**_

_**For those who are confused, because I just suck at writing, Lovino was delusional after the Feliciano died and so he though **_**he ****_was Feliciano. That's why "Feliciano" saw Lovino in the mirror and why Ludwig and Antonio were so surprised because Lovino was being nice. And called Ludwig by his name and not potato eater or something. _**

_**But they didn't question it because they thought it was from the trauma.**_

_**Also, Feliciano had been going after the cat and Lovino had tried to save him, but had failed, so Feliciano had died. But Lovino felt like he hadn't saved him so he got delusional and technically became his brother to live for him, I guess? Honestly, I don't even know what I wrote orz.**_

_**So yeah... Hope you enjoyed ^^ Though this was more of a failed experiment.**_

_**But oh well. I can't lose anything since this is just an experiment keke. **_


End file.
